The Sounds of Silence
by The Lonely Goatherd
Summary: Callie wants to understand. She wants to. But she can't, because she wants Arizona to understand so much more. Callie/Arizona. Spoilers 6x17 "Push"
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Grey's Anatomy. Or Callie or Arizona. They are far too fabulous for my little mind to create.

**Author's Note:** This is by no means my first fanfic, but it is my first Grey's fic---please, do enjoy.

**Summary:** Callie wants to understand. She wants to try. But she just can't because she wants Arizona to understand so much more. Callie/Arizona, spoilers: 6x17 "Push".

* * *

**The Sounds of Silence-  
-Part One**

There come points in every relationship when words, emotions; when conversations and feelings are left unspoken.

Anger goes ignored because you want to spend the night happy. Sadness goes unvoiced because you want to believe that you are happy. Fear is hidden because you try to be brave.

Conversations of the future are left unsaid because you hold on to hope that it will be the perfect image it was in your mind.

Unspoken and unheard because it all makes the present all the more bearable.

* * *

They hadn't spoken of it. Not since that night when the smell of Chinese food wafted through the air. Not since adrenaline had coursed through her when she realized she had finally, _finally_, accomplished what she had been hoping for. Not since that adrenaline had made her utter those words; those words that had pierced the air. Words that had been welcomed, words that had been denied.

Not since her gut had wrenched and she had felt pain at that denial. Not since Mark had interrupted their conversation with his talks of taking Teddy out. Not since they celebrated her and his achievements at Joe's.

They had gone back to normal. Pretending it didn't happen, though at night the words would seep through to her, as dreams of the future she hoped for danced like the sugar plum fairies. Days were hectic, nights were spent trying to relax. And fear had kept her from asking again.

But now, sitting before Brittany Wilson, Dr. Calliope Torres felt the words pressing at the tip of her tongue and she knew, if things continued as they were, she would no longer be able to hold them back.

The poor girl had Brittle Bone Disease Callie had quickly learned when the seven-year-old explained the situation with a roll of the eyes. She had been a patient of Arizona's since she'd been born and frequented the ER often.

_"I'm not going to let some stupid disease keep me from beating Joey to the top of the tree," _She had proclaimed as Callie had first examined her.

But the broken leg today had been the worst yet and so Callie had been called upon by her girlfriend in the hopes that surgery could be avoided. And being the doctor that she was, Callie had been able to do such that.

"I got my ears pierced when I was five," Arizona's voice broke through Callie's thoughts. It was a simple statement, a response to the girl's inquisition but then Brittany laughed and Callie wondered what it was that her girlfriend had done to garner such a reaction.

She felt a smile tug at her lips. "Not feeling too much pain, are you Brittany?" Callie asked as she paused, before she began the task of wrapping Brittany's leg

Brittany sighed, exasperated, and shook her head. "Nope."

Arizona snorted, "None at all?" She asked, raising her brow at the girl.

Brittany nodded her head.

"Huh," Arizona said, making a show of looking at the leg Callie sat before. "Well that's a bummer then."

"It is?" Callie felt herself asking with Brittany, her brow rising slightly.

"Oh yes," Arizona said. "You see, I had this lollipop that I was going to give you, but now I can't." From the depths of her coat pocket the blonde produced a lollipop that pediatricians were famous for handing out.

"Why not?" Brittany asked as she eyed the sucker, her eyes dimming slightly as she looked at the treat just out of her reach.

"Well," Arizona began, drawing out the word like a song. "I'm only allowed to give lollipops to kids who are in pain to help take the pain away. I can't go giving lollipops away, willy-nilly to girls who aren't in any pain, can I, Dr. Torres?"

Callie's eyes shot to Arizona and she couldn't help but smile at the sight of the blue orbs dancing before her.

Callie took in an exaggerated deep breath and let it out as she looked back to Brittany, "No, not willy-nilly. That just wouldn't be fair," she said shaking her head.

"Right," Arizona finished with a nod of her head. "Just wouldn't be fair."

Brittany bit her lower lip, looking at the lollipop in Arizona's hand to Callie and then back again. Decision etched itself into the faint creases in her young skin and Callie found herself amazed.

Yes, the words pushed their way to the forefront of her mind. Why? She simply could not understand. If there was anyone in this world who was fit to be a mother, it was Arizona Robbins. They way she was with children; it was magic. Being a mother, Callie was certain, was what Arizona was meant to do. Hell, she was already a second mother to all of her patients who called the hospital home. And yet, she didn't want her own. She was fine with being mother number two.

Arizona Robbins didn't want children, because—_yikes—_that was apparently the worst thing that could happen to the woman.

And Callie could not wrap her head around it one bit.

"Dr. Torres," Brittany said, finally looking back to Callie down the tip of her short nose. "I lied. It does _kinda_ hurt."

Callie smiled and nodded, pushing the slightest bit more pain medication into the girl's IV. "Ready for me to start?"

Brittany wasn't paying attention; instead she gleefully took the lollipop Arizona gave to her and threw off the wrapper, quickly shoving the treat into her mouth.

"I think that's a yes," Arizona quipped as she eyed the girl with an amused, triumphant grin.

Callie had once heard Arizona explain that children believed in magic. But, she wondered, if the blonde realized that to all of the magic believing children Dr. Robbins was the goodliest of witches.

Callie set to work, more confused than she had been when the day began. Because it just didn't make sense.

Brittany made a loud sucking noise as she pulled the lollipop from her mouth.

Arizona made a face.

Callie tediously worked.

From the corner of the room, Brittany's mother laughed.

* * *

Callie and Arizona watched as a nurse wheeled Brittany in a wheelchair out to her mother and their waiting car.

Just before she disappeared into the dark vehicle the little girl turned towards the hospital doors and waved. The two doctors waved back; matching smiles covering their faces.

"Want to grab some lunch?" Arizona asked when the car disappeared from sight.

"Always," Callie replied cheekily as the two began their trek towards the cafeteria.

They walked in a comfortable silence at first; a few steps to clear their thoughts from work to a lunch shared between partners. But still the words nagged at Callie. Pushing and pulling; begging to be spoken. And she knew, after the display she had just witnessed, she would no longer be able to ignore them.

"Can I ask you something?" Callie asked, before she lost her nerve.

"Always," Arizona replied cheekily, brushing the back of her fingers against her counter parts; a professional public display of affection.

"Why?" It was all Callie said, but it was all that needed to be said. A simple question.

There was silence and then Arizona stopped walking, turning to her girlfriend with a bemused smile. "I'm going to need a little more than that, Calliope."

Callie felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, quickly realizing that Arizona had not been privy to the conversation she had been having with herself all day.

"Right," she said, blowing out a breath and Arizona chuckled.

"So?" The blonde encouraged as they began to walk again, bumping their shoulders together.

"Why don't you want children?"

Arizona's step faltered slightly, slipping on wheeled shoes before she composed herself. She looked sideways at Callie and then looked ahead again. "I thought we already had this conversation."

"Not really," Callie said slowly, unsure of what to make of her girlfriend's response.

"Nope, pretty sure we did."

"Arizona," Callie said, grabbing the blonde's elbow to make her stop and look at her. "Why?"

"I already told you."

Callie shook her head, "You rambled off some story about a boy and his mom. You didn't tell me why _you _didn't want children."

Arizona let out a long sigh, looking around at the passing nurses and doctors around them. "Can we not have this conversation now?" She asked, as she began to walk away.

But this time Callie didn't follow. "Arizona."

"What?" Arizona hissed, turning quickly as Callie was taken aback by the venom that was suddenly shaping her usually cheerful words.

"Why can't you give me a reason?"

"Because we're at work."

"No," Callie said, trying to avoid some of the stares they were beginning to get. "That's not your reason. That's an excuse. _Why_?"  
Arizona shrunk slightly, her shoulders hunching, as an anger began to fill her eyes and Callie realized that the more she pushed this subject the more she began to push her luck. "Why do you care?"

The words were out of Arizona's mouth faster than either realized and Callie felt like she had been kicked in the gut. And in an instant, Callie felt her own anger building. "Because," she said, grabbing Arizona and pulling her off to the side; another attempt to stray from prying eyes. "I happen to think that you would make the most _amazing _mother. And I want to see that. I want to be a mother with you. I want to raise children _with_ you. And I can't even begin to imagine why you don't want that."

Arizona was shaking her head and the more Callie spoke the more she shook, harder and faster; like a child ridding herself of a nightmare. Is that what the idea of having children was to Arizona---a nightmare?

"Callie, not here."

"Then when? Tonight?"

Arizona looked away. The answer was clear: _how about never_?

"Arizona, please," Callie continued speaking, watching in horror as tears began to bud in crystal blue eyes. But she couldn't stop. Not now. She had to know. "Just explain why. Because I don't—I don't get it."

Before Arizona could respond a loud beeping sounded and they both looked to their hips; Callie sighed in relief and frustration when it wasn't hers. Arizona pulled her pager from her hip, looking close, trying to decipher where she needed. "I have to go," she whispered, her eyes avoiding Callie's.

And then she was off, going to do what it was she did best, without a backwards glance in Callie's direction.

* * *

Dr. Calliope Torres had never scrubbed her fingers so fast in her life.

A boy. A two-year-old boy. Mauled. By the new family dog.

Just the words, the mere words, made Callie sick. And she hadn't even seen him yet. But Arizona had paged for her. Because bones had been broken and they needed to be fixed. And that was what she did. So she would do it. No matter the circumstance.

A part of her wanted to laugh (not for the poor boy, of course) but because it was rare occasions that she and her girlfriend got to work together. And yet, today they would be doing so twice. Usually the thought would have made them both happy—a chance for them to be great together. But at this moment in time, Callie was certain she was the last person Arizona wanted to see.

She pulled her hands back and the water shut off. Holding her hands before her and taking a deep breath, Callie entered the OR.

"Where the hell is Dr. Torres?" Arizona barking orders was the first sound that reached Callie's ears. Despite herself, the Latina found herself amazed at the way Arizona could command an operating room.

"I'm here," she breathed through her mask as the nurses helped her with final preparations. As she walked over to the table, she took in the room; attempting to assess what had happened; what needed to be done.

Owen was there, standing across from Arizona as they worked on the boy's chest. Mark sat at the boy's head because---oh god, was that an ear? Callie felt bile rise in her throat as she looked away, doing her best to convince herself that she was not about to work on a child. A boy who would barely come mid-thigh on her.

Lexie and Karev were the present residents; their eyes carrying the sadness that she was certain was present in her own.

"His legs," Arizona instructed, not taking her eyes from the work she was doing.

Callie nodded and moved to the foot of the table. "Dr. Grey, if you could give me a hand."

Lexie looked to Arizona; a check to make sure the PEDS surgeon didn't need her.

"I've got it," Karev said, motioning with his head to work with Callie and Lexie quickly complied.

Callie took in a deep breath and took in the sight of the boy's mangled legs. No—not mangled. Because mangled didn't do his pain justice. No words in Callie's vocabulary could even begin to describe what she was seeing.

She felt the bile rise again.

"Awful, isn't it?" Lexie whispered, her voice wavering.

Callie nodded and set to work.

They all worked quickly and quietly. The only words were of work. There was no banter. Not talk of what was going on outside the walls of the OR. It was quiet. And Callie was certain that she had never been in a room that was still and busy at the same time.

Calliope Torres prided herself on being a focused worker. When she was in the OR she was devoted to her patient. The person who was willingly putting themselves in her care and hands. She was focused and she did what she could to make sure that the patient was in the best care possible.

But today, for this boy; this tiny—_tiny_ boy, Callie was certain she had never been more focused on a patient in her life. Because she had to succeed. She had to succeed for this boy. To make sure that he could walk. So he could run. So he could grow to play soccer, or baseball, or whatever sport it was that his dad loved. So he could go on to be a doctor—so _he_ could save lives.

She had to succeed. She _had _to.

And then it started.

The beeping. The awful beeping that a surgeon dreaded. The beeping that would wake Callie in the middle of the night, certain her pager was going off, only to find it had been a dream. A dream of blood and death.

The beeping that haunted even the most reserved of surgeons.

"BP's dropping," Lexie let the room know.

"Get me a crash cart," Arizona all but yelled.

And then they all moved, hands working the same area at the same time. Trying to stop his bleeding; trying to cover what was open.

Trying, attempting, to ready this small child for a shock he wouldn't even feel.

* * *

Dr. Calliope Torres stood at the edge of the waiting room, her scrub cap crushed between her hands.

She watched as Arizona walked across the room; to waiting parents. The couple immediately stood when they caught sight of the surgeon and she motioned for them to all sit.

Callie couldn't hear the words that Arizona spoke. But she knew what was being said. She knew the tone. The way the words would sound. She knew it all. Because she had said it all before. She had delivered the news Arizona was now delivering.

And it still never got easier.

Callie watched as Arizona slowly lowered her head and the boy's mother doubled over into her husband's lap as sobs shook her form.

Callie lowered her gaze as her girlfriend had; it was part respect—let those grieving grieve in private---and it was part that she simply couldn't bear to look.

She couldn't watch as a mother and father were told that their child hadn't made it. How he had coded on the table and they hadn't been successful in reviving him. How they had tried; tried so hard. How they had tried and yet still failed.

She could not look as a mother and father were told that the small child they had hardly known, yet known better than anyone else, would not be going home with them.

The bile rose again.

Suddenly there was movement next to her and Callie looked up.

Arizona was next to her again, gazing up at her with a hard, frozen stare. Empty tears brimming her eyes.

"Do you get it now?"

The words washed over Callie like a cold shower as Arizona walked away. Ringing through her ears, rooting her to the spot, as her eyes traveled back to the parents whose world had just been shattered.

And, Callie knew, from the knotting of her stomach that yes---she was beginning to understand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Grey's Anatomy.

**The Sounds of Silence-  
-Part Two**

They had been doing it right. Like all humans were expected to do. A natural order of progression. Like a baby. One must roll over before they can crawl. Crawl before they can walk. Walk before they can run. Run before they can jump.

One step at a time. Like they should have been. And they were.

They had dated. Gotten engaged. Gotten married. Bought a house and two cars. Gotten pregnant, had a child. And like the natural order of things they had taken the next step. Before baby number two they bought a dog. A family pet, to be a protector, a watchman, a friend. A loyal family member whose affection wouldn't waver.

They had done it right. Like they were supposed to, like it was expected. It was perfect. And yet, because they had—because they had tasted that perfection and lived it---their world had been ruined, shattered. All because they had taken one more step to becoming a family.

They couldn't have known, couldn't have predicted. They were just doing it right. And now their world was shattered and nothing would be able to fix the ache they would feel for the rest of their lives because they could no longer hold their little boy.

An innocent mistake. The biggest mistake of their lives. Because they wanted perfection.

Dr. Arizona Robbins groaned as the sound of her lock clicked open. Carefully she pushed open her apartment door, surprised that her legs were still holding her up. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, feeling her headache worsen as the door slammed shut.

Arizona closed her eyes, trying to rid herself of the pain, but as she did images flashed before her eyes. Images of the small child she had tried to save. The boy she had failed. She saw his face, though she knew it wasn't the sweet cherub his parents had loved. It was a face of pain and hurt.

Her eyes shot open and Arizona felt her chest constrict. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She was haunted. And she didn't understand it.

In med school doctors were taught how to detach themselves from emotions and patients; to care, but to care just the slightest bit less. Because you couldn't get attached. You couldn't get emotional. Arizona knew it, she had been taught like everyone else.

And yet, despite what she had been told, Arizona was no stranger to feeling the loss of a patient. Because, with children, you couldn't do anything but that. Children were told that Arizona was the lady who would make them better and take away their pain. And so she worked tirelessly to make sure that she did. Because when children and families looked at her they saw hope. She filled a void for parents and children, when a cookie from Mommy just wasn't enough.

So she got attached. Because that was the person that Arizona was. She couldn't help it. She got attached and she felt pain. But she had learned how to deal with it. To compartmentalize, to block it away, to move on. To focus on the next child, to save him or her. Because that's what was needed to be done.

Yet today, tonight, standing against her door, she felt haunted. And it made no sense. Arizona was no stranger to this pain. But she couldn't comprehend it.

For trauma patients were different. There was no time to get attached, no time to learn about their family. No time to learn what made them laugh, to bring them joy, to give them a lollipop. There was five minutes, five minutes of quick decisions. Of actions where you couldn't move fast enough.

But this boy, this small child who had come into the ER---a child whose name she hadn't even learned---was getting to her, more than any child she had ever come across.

Arizona thought she didn't understand why, but she knew she was merely pretending. Because the nagging at the back of her mind told her otherwise. The pushing and the pulling; the pecking, like a damn chicken, told her otherwise.

Arizona Robbins knew why this child was getting to her, and the thought of it made her feel worse.

With an achy groan, Arizona pushed away from her door and walked to her balcony, rummaging through her purse; needing something to take the edge off. It had been a long while since Arizona had used a smoke to deal with her problems and pains; usually she found comfort in her girlfriend's arms. A cocoon of warmth and love. But tonight, she wouldn't. Tonight she would find safety in a cigarette. Because, tonight, Calliope Torres was part of the problem and one can't find comfort where there is pain.

They hadn't spoken since Arizona had left her standing in the waiting room. For she had gone off to do other things; post-op rounds, paper work. Anything to keep her busy. To keep her from seeing her girlfriend and the inquisition in her eyes. Anything to push away the words they had spoken to each other right before that boy had entered the ER.

Arizona walked onto her balcony and back in to the cold night, still damp from the rain that had poured earlier. She lit her cigarette and took in a deep breath; holding until she couldn't hold it in any longer. She exhaled, watching the smoke disappear into the air.

Images of the boy and Calliope's inquisitions swarmed in her head, becoming more bothersome and prominent.

She took in a long draw of her smoke.

Why? She wondered. Why did Calliope need to know? No, she knew why she needed to know. She understood that. But why did she have to push? Why couldn't she have waited? Waited until Arizona was ready to explain, ready with carefully chosen words to explain what she herself couldn't voice.

The blood in Arizona's head pounded faster and harder and her ears began to buzz. All of this thinking, this wondering, it was doing nothing to cease what she wanted to get away from. Frustrated and tired, Arizona put out her cigarette and returned to the warmth of her apartment. Unceremoniously, she flopped down on her couch and threw her arm over her eyes trying to block out the world around her. Trying to find comfort in the walls of her home.

But it didn't feel like home. Not now. This place she had grown to love now felt strange and different. This wasn't her home not anymore. Not when she spent so much time at Calliope's. Not when she hadn't been alone in this apartment in months.

Was home a place, or the person you shared it with?

Carefully, Arizona cleared her mind, focusing on her breathing until it slowly evened and she finally sleep pulled her into its dark depths.

* * *

_It was a rare sunny spring day in Seattle._

_ The sun was shining bright, with only puffs of white clouds dotting the sky here or there. Bright and clean. Flowers bloomed, the air was fresh and crisp. The grass was green. _

_ Whimsical._

_ Arizona stood at the edge of the park sandbox, a smile gracing her lips. Waiting; patiently waiting, for Calliope to join her. It wouldn't take long now; the park was just down the street from the hospital and lunch time was approaching. Calliope would be here soon, taking a quick break from work, to enjoy a family picnic._

_ "Momma! Momma look at me!" A tiny squeal interrupted Arizona's thoughts and she looked towards the sound of the voice, seeing Temperance swinging. "Look how high I'm going!"_

_ Arizona felt her breath hitch as she watched her daughter swing higher and higher, a momentary fear coursing through her until she told herself to calm down; remembering the magic she had once felt at swinging as high as she could._

_ "Look at you go!" Arizona cheered from where she stood, watching with a smile. "Just be careful," the words slipped from her lips, the mother in her not being able to hold back._

_ Temperance giggled, kicking her legs higher. "I'm always careful!" She squealed as the swing went higher. "I'm flying!"  
Arizona laughed quietly just as she felt two arms slide around her waist and a chin settle on her shoulder._

_ "She's getting better," a voice whispered into her ear._

_ "Hi Mommy!" Temperance yelled from the swing._

_ "Hi Boo!" Calliope called back and Temperance laughed again._

_ "Mommy that's not my name!" The girl yelled as she kicked higher. "It's Tempe!"  
Arizona felt Calliope laugh against her and she settled into her embrace. "Of course she's getting better," she said, finally replying to the Latina's statement. "Between the two of us and Mark, she's here every single day."_

_ "Well, practice does make perfect," Calliope hushed into her ear and Arizona chuckled a throaty laugh; feeling heat spread through her body._

_ She tore her gaze from their daughter to finally look at her love. "Hi," she whispered into Calliope's mouth, her eyes twinkling._

_ "Hi," Calliope replied, brushing their lips together with a soft force._

_Arizona hummed appreciatively as they pulled apart and turned to watch their daughter once more._

_ And then, suddenly, without warning; in a simple instant, the world stopped._

_ Arizona watched in horror as Temperance kicked again, flying higher than she ever had before. The swing-set gave a jerk and the chain broke. A squeal turned to a scream as Arizona and Calliope rushed forward; neither making it in time before Temperance's small body hit the ground with a sickening thud._

_

* * *

  
_

_They were running. Running faster than they ever had before. Temperance, small and unmoving was slumped in Calliope's arms. Arizona was at their side, her hand placed on Calliope's shoulder; trying to maintain contact. Trying to keep them all together; to keep _it_ together. Because, she knew, it was quickly falling apart before her._

_ The doors to the ER opened as they approached and they entered quickly. Arizona didn't know what she was saying; her shouts falling on her own deaf ears. But suddenly there was Bailey and Meredith. Listening and asking questions. And then there was Christina and they were all carefully pulling Temperance from the safety of her Mommy's arms. They were all speaking, all asking questions, but Arizona heard none of it. Just the constant buzz of her own blood thumping through her brain._

_ And then they were wheeling her away, saying they would do what they could. That it would be okay. That they would have to wait._

_ "NO!" The word finally pierced through the buzz she heard and Arizona realized it was her own voice. "No, I have to go with. I need---."_

_ She took a step forward, but arms were around her. Two strong arms she knew so well. _

_ "No!" Arizona struggled against Calliope. Trying and fighting to follow her daughter into the trauma room. Derek and Mark came running down the hall, both pausing to look at the scene Arizona was making, before lowering their gaze and entering the trauma room._

_ "No," Arizona screamed and for the first time she realized she was crying. "No."_

_ Her body collapsed and Calliope was finally able to pull her towards the waiting room. And then they were sitting and Calliope's arms were holding tighter than they ever had before. And she was loudly sobbing, her voice course as her tears wet Calliope's shirt, as Calliope's fell into her hair._

_

* * *

  
_

_There was silence. Mark and Lexie were sitting beside them. All quiet. All waiting. For news. Any news. But there had been nothing. Arizona often told patients that no news was good news. But it wasn't, she knew. No news was awful, because not knowing was so much worse._

_ Suddenly there were footsteps and Arizona tore her face from the comfort of Calliope's shoulder and looked up. Derek stood before them, Bailey and Richard not far behind. Slowly, Derek sat down beside them and bowed his head._

_ There was silence. But the meaning of the surgeon's posture spoke volumes to Arizona. Before he even said anything she knew; knew the news he was going to deliver, because she had delivered it so many times before._

_ "No," she whimpered and Calliope's grip tightened around her._

_ "Her brain…" Derek started slowly and Arizona closed her eyes. Not her brain, her beautifully smart brain. A mind that was far too precocious for a normal four-year-old. "There was too much bleeding. There wasn't anything I could--."_

_ And his voice trailed off, his own words choked with tears. Because their daughter, their beautiful baby girl, had been a gift not just to them but to their friends. A gift; that would no longer continue to give._

_ Because Arizona's beautiful baby girl, whose brown eyes had been so much like her Mommy's, was dead. Dead from a fall. Dead from doing what little girls did best. Dead from having fun._

_ Arizona choked on a sob and doubled over; burying her face into Calliope's lap. Trying to quell the unbearable pain._

_

* * *

  
_

_Arizona's hand gripped Calliope's tightly as the parents walked down the aisle. No, they weren't that anymore, she had to remind herself. They were no longer parents. Ahead of them lay their beautiful daughter, looking like she was sleeping in her open casket._

_ Her face painted to look healthy. Her hair arranged to hide the scar of the surgery that hadn't been able to save her life. Wearing her favorite pink dress that Arizona had gotten her because she hadn't been able to say "No."_

_ She was before them, as beautiful and as peaceful as ever. But Arizona saw none of it. All she could see, all she could focus on, was the tiny coffin that her daughter was lying in. The tiny, tiny coffin that shouldn't have been made. Because children, her child, shouldn't have died. But it was there and her daughter would be buried in it. _

_ The tiny, small, incredibly little coffin. _

_ And then suddenly it all changed and she was no longer in a church and Calliope no longer stood by for support. Instead, Arizona was surrounded and alone, surrounded by thousands of coffins that were carrying her daughter. Dancing before her. Taunting her. Mocking her._

_ Taking away her child. Taking away the one thing she wanted more than anything else. Taking it away before she even had the chance to get it._

_

* * *

  
_

Arizona bolted up right, breathing heavily as sweat beaded on her forehead and tears poured down her cheeks. Her stomach turned and she gagged, bringing her hand to her mouth she stumbled and ran towards her bathroom.

She had barely collapsed before the toilet before she got sick, emptying her already empty stomach. She gagged and sat back, resting her head against the edge of her bathtub and closed her eyes. Trying to still her racing heart. But it was no use, the images of her dream danced before her again and she lunged forward; becoming sick once more.

Suddenly there was a hand on her back and another pulling her hair from her face. She would have jumped, surprised to find that she wasn't alone, but Arizona knew that touch. She knew it better than anything in the world. And she felt herself relax as Calliope slowly rubbed circles on her back

Her stomach heaved again and she hunched over the toilet as her body acted against her will. And then it stopped and she slumped forward, using the seat as a rest in case her stomach acted on its own again. Blindly she reached up and flushed, finding an odd comfort as the water swirled and carried away her pain.

And then the warmth of Calliope's hand was gone. And Arizona felt cold. She wanted to turn and look around, but she felt far too weak to attempt such a task

Just as suddenly as Calliope had disappeared she was back, pulling Arizona into her arms and wiping her forehead with a damp cloth. Part of Arizona wanted to protest, to tell her girlfriend she wasn't a child. But she could barely move and the warmth of Calliope's body around hers was lulling her and comforting.

The cloth disappeared and a glass of water was being held to her lips. She drank cautiously, small sips to rid the taste of bile from her mouth. When she was done, she pushed Calliope's hand away and settled back; closing her eyes, surprised to find that for once, her thoughts were not haunted of images of dead children.

Calliope shifted and suddenly Arizona was being lifted into the air. Despite herself, she couldn't help but be surprised. She wasn't that much smaller than her girlfriend and yet Calliope was carrying her with ease. And Arizona wondered if it were possible for pain to cause instant weight loss.

Within seconds they were in her bed, snuggled under the covers, Arizona's back flush against Calliope's front, one arm wrapped tightly around Arizona's waist, the other cradling her head.

They lay in silence and Arizona let the calm of the room wash over her. Wanting nothing more than to sleep a peaceful sleep.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Calliope whispered into her ear, her voice soft and understanding.

"What?" Arizona asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"You don't have a fever." Calliope's lips brushed against her neck and her hand came to rest against her forehead; making a point. "You haven't been sick all week. But---."

The question hung in the air and Arizona knew what Calliope was after. A lie bubbled on the tip of her lips, but Calliope knew her better than anyone and Arizona knew the other woman would catch her fib before the words even left her mouth. So, she sighed, and opted for a half truth. "I had a nightmare." It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't an explanation either.

"You never have nightmares."

It was a simple statement and Arizona almost laughed at the irony of it. Because she did, she had nightmares often---but not just any nightmares. It was always the same. The same one would dance before her, showing her a glimpse of the future—taking it all away.

But they hardly woke her in the middle of the night; usually they were an empty ache in the morning; taunting her and scaring her. And when they did wake her, it was nothing serious. Heavy breathing, a light sweat. She would simply settle further into Calliope's embrace and she would sleep again.

"Right?" Calliope's breath tickled her neck and had this been any other situation, she would have groaned.

She simply shrugged, "Sometimes I do. But it—I've never gotten sick."

"What are they about?"

Arizona stiffened and she knew Calliope must have felt it, because the arm around her tightened. She didn't answer; instead she opted to picking at a non-existent piece of lint on the bed spread. She felt her girlfriend take in a deep breath.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Just—not now," Arizona whispered hating that she sounded like a small child.

She felt Calliope nod against her back. "I'm sorry."

Arizona looked back over her shoulder, surprised by the apology falling from the lips she saw. Confused, for if anyone were to apologize, it should be her. "What for?"

Calliope smiled sadly, "For earlier. For pushing you. I-I think I get it. Well maybe not quite, but I still understa--."

Arizona turned away and Calliope stopped talking, needing to no longer explain what her apology was for. "I'm sorry too," Arizona whispered, placing her hand atop the one that was on her stomach, entwining their fingers.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want something that is obviously important to you."

The statement hung in the air as Calliope's breath hitched and Arizona felt her own pause, waiting to hear what her girlfriend would say.

"You don't have to apologize," Calliope finally spoke pulling Arizona against her again. "I get it—I do. But…"

Her voice trailed off, instantly becoming uncertain. Arizona felt panic rise. But was never good. Not in any situation. Not in any relationship. But was never, ever good. God, she was going to be sick again. "But?" she forced herself to ask.

"I'm going to hold on to hope that someday I might be able to change your mind."

Had Calliope's mouth not been right next to her ear, Arizona was certain she wouldn't have been able to hear the words she had spoken. Her nightmare flashed before her eyes again and Arizona wondered if someday it would stop with a family enjoying a picnic.

"I think," she finally spoke, running her hand up Calliope's arm, "That hope is a good idea."

And then they fell into silence. Letting the rest of their conversation linger for another day. Letting their troubles and their worries wash away, if only for a moment, to enjoy the peace that had enveloped them.

Finally, for the first time in what seemed like days, Arizona felt herself relax. She let her limbs go numb, focusing on the soft movement of Calliope's hand against her stomach. Allowing it to lull her to sleep, knowing that—for right now, at this very moment---everything was perfect.

* * *

There come points in every relationship when words, emotions; when conversations and feelings are left unspoken.

You push someone away because you can't bear to look at their sadness. You ignore your own pain because it's so much easier than dealing with a lover's hurt. You quell your own fears because your partner's is so much more important.

You put off questions of the future because the present is all the more prevalent.

Unspoken and unheard because that is the only thing that can be done in a moment.

There come points in every relationship when words, emotions; when conversations and feelings are left unspoken.

But sometimes that silence is, simply, enough.

_Fin_


End file.
